"Tell you all so! We ain't had no winter clothes guv us yet, and dey's done sent de tailor to fit us!"
The operator with the line, on hearing this, dropped his measure, and, with emotions divided between astonishment and compassion, gazed at the poor wretch, who remained smiling in delight. No one else spoke, and, after a moment, the official picked up his line and resumed his work.
"Wen'll de clothes be ready for me?" inquired Governor, with great interest.
"I am not taking your size for clothes," answered the operator, gravely.
"No! What den?" inquired Governor, in astonishment, but without the least suspicion of the truth.
"Don't you know?"
"No! I doesn't! What is it?"
"Well, you know, at least, that you are to die to-morrow. And I am measuring you for your coffin."
Governor made no reply, neither did the smile pass at once from his face. He no longer refused to believe in his approaching fate, but the idea was very slow in penetrating his brain.
The carpenter, having now completed his errand, left the cell in company with the turnkey. Governor went and resumed his seat upon the side of his cot, and remained perfectly silent, only not as cheerful as he had been, and occasionally putting up his hand and rubbing his head, and seeming to ponder. At last he said, dubiously, however: